


House in the Storm

by shellalana



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Drama, F/M, Funeral, Jealousy, Light Angst, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Love, Vomiting, Widowed, but they still play an important part, the others are mostly minor characters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-09-20
Packaged: 2019-10-10 13:50:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17427092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shellalana/pseuds/shellalana
Summary: During the events of Borderlands 1, Mordecai and the administrator of New Haven, Helena Pierce, butt heads. It seems from the get-go that they're much too stubborn to give each other any leeway, but a friendship (and possibly more) soon blossoms over the most surprising things.





	1. Fool's Paradise

It had been a rough day getting through the Rust Commons to the place they'd been hearing about since their arrival on Pandora. New Haven was one of the few civilizations around that wasn't populated by bandits, and to hear that there were people who didn't want to sever their heads from their necks and suck out their spinal cords for dinner was more than just a relief. It meant that they had a chance to breathe for once. It meant that they could get a good night's sleep with a roof over their heads and possibly some decently cooked food that wouldn't give them diarrhea at odd hours of the day. Instead of taking shifts, sleeping under their Runners for warmth, and bathing in nothing more than the tepid water they kept in their flasks, they could have beds. Real beds. With pillows. What more could they ask for?

The four Vault Hunters were beyond giddy to see the put-together buildings their vehicles crawled towards. They stopped just on the outskirts, the buildings much too close together to crash their vehicles through. Which meant that there was more walking involved, and their feet were beyond sore.

"Ugh, I can't wait to get into a real shower again." Lilith stretched out her back with her hands on her hips until there was an audible pop. She sighed with relief, the sound she made almost orgasmic. The other three tried not to look too much into it for fear of their clothing being set on fire.

"It doesn't really look like this place has got power." Roland, the ever-stoic soldier, climbed out of the turret seat behind her with his assault rifle at the ready. It seemed even with the promise of respite, he wasn't going to stroll into the place unarmed. Mordecai certainly couldn't blame him for that; old habits die hard, but around here, those were what had kept them alive so far.

Brick, on the other hand, took no precautions and walked right in, wanting nothing more than some hot food in his belly and somewhere to sleep. His fists were tired and the aftereffects of his binges on adrenaline were starting to take a toll on his body. If the residents proved to be less than hospitable, however, his fists would do the talking for him.

"Shit. No power means no running water." Lilith threw her hands into the air in exasperation. So much for the relief she'd been looking for. "Don't tell me we have to fix their problems too!"

"Thought ya'd be used to that by now, amiga." The hunter finally piped up, exhaustion grating on his voice as he followed their larger companion into town. Bloodwing soared overhead and found a perch on the edge of a corrugated metal roof where she could see everything.

"'pparently, we're the goddamned saviours of this planet. Let's just get this shit over with."

One by one, they found each generator in turn and got them going again. The engines rumbled to life and the lights flickered on in turn until the whole town was aglow. It was only then that they heard people starting to mill about, possibly afraid to go out in the dark with nearby bandits lurking around.

They found the familiar neon signs of Marcus' shop and Zed's clinic... but nothing indicating where this Pierce woman who'd been barking at them over the Echo was. The buildings themselves were pretty much nondescript, and that forced them to wander around for a while before they chanced on someone looking friendly enough to give them directions.

"Passed it on the way in." He pointed back in the direction of the rundown vehicle shop, where a blaring radio was playing some awful banjo music. "Door right next to that mailbox." The man tugged the bandanna higher up on his face to keep himself hidden, not knowing who this ragtag bunch was.

They groaned in annoyance, having to head back the way they'd come but the sooner they got this over with, the sooner they could get into some nice beds and forget about what they'd had to go through just to get here. All that hoop-jumping and bandit-murdering... It came with the territory but they were honestly in need of a vacation.

The place was just as plain as the next. With no nameplate on the door, no medals or awards or anything fancy to indicate this place belonged to the person in charge, it was no wonder they'd passed it.

"I... guess we go in?" Lilith gestured to the open doorway but none were eager to take the first step. This Pierce woman hadn't sounded pleasant and the last thing they wanted to hear was an earful of beratement. Lilith eventually rolled her eyes and stepped in, whispering "pussies" under her breath before the darkness of the building swallowed her up. Roland was determined that Brick and Mordecai enter before him so he could cover the rear. Just in case, he said. Mordecai wasn't buying it; he was sure the Atlas soldier was just as scared as the rest of them.

The interior itself was smaller than they'd imagined and they had to squeeze themselves into the tiny office (though Brick's size didn't help) just to fit around the desk a scarred woman was sitting behind. Lamplight glimmered off the strands of greying hair and a single pale eye, like a sickly white moon judging them where they stood. The light hid within the deep trenches of her scar that twisted and melted together towards her ear and danced off the honey-brown colour of the good eye she had left.

"So you're the Vault Hunters Tannis promised me." The accented voice was much more posh than any of them would have expected from the citizen of Pandora, made even clearer without the static of the Echonet distorting everything. She tilted the head of her lamp up to get a better look at them, and tented her fingers together in examination. They could see the dull reflection of metal jutting out from the end of one glove - a prosthetic arm - and the Vault Hunters knew that this wasn't a woman to be messed with.

It was difficult to hide their initial reactions to the sight of her, save for Mordecai, who had the benefit of his goggles and leather skullcap to hide the majority of his features. This Pierce, however, wasn't fazed by it; she'd gotten used to that reaction years ago. Her placid expression made the other three feel even more self-conscious for not having better self-control.

"... well, since you're all too flabbergasted to introduce yourself, I'm Helena Pierce, administrator of New Haven. Which means I don't enjoy people lazing about, expecting handouts without doing a lick of work. Even if they are Vault Hunters. I would thank you for turning back on the power, but that means that our generators aren't as protected or well-hidden as they should be. And since you're fresh in from the wastelands, I expect you to provide some assistance to our resident mechanic to remedy the situation. That should be enough to earn your keep."

The four stood before her, completely speechless and dumbfounded.

Pierce rolled her eyes.

"Power good. Power means you stay. You want to stay, yes?" So much for thinking these people were promising.

Realizing they were being spoken down to, they all sneered in turn and headed out the door to complete the task without another word. All of this walking, all of that traveling, only to be spoken to like children. Who did this woman think she was? At least, splitting up saved them from each other's tempers as they got the job done securing the generators.

"Good, good. There's a small place near Scooter's garage that has a few cots in it, some lockers for your equipment... and some washing machines." Her nose twitched as she nodded them towards the door again, hoping they would take the cue and eliminate the smell that seemed to hover around them.

"Are we dismissed?" The lanky sniper remained, ignorant of her gesture. It was his turn to interrupt with sarcasm of his own. This woman had been getting on his nerves and he wasn't about to go to bed without letting her have a piece of his mind. After everything they'd done, and she was still treating them like common errand boys. If he hadn't been looking forward to this place so much, he would have upped and continued on his way, a nice bed or not.

Pierce paused in her writing and stared at him under lidded eyes. She hadn't expected such a response; no one around New Haven had the gall to stand up to her or doubt her word. She'd earned their trust and respect, and she demanded the same from these four.

"Yes. You're dismissed," she replied with a curt nod and a sarcastic smirk. The hunter returned an overly dramatic salute before giving her the finger and storming out behind the others.

"You'll certainly make things interesting, won't you?"

 


	2. Philosophy in a Teacup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mordecai (unwillingly) goes on an errand to get the others breakfast. A confrontation with Pierce puts him in a bad mood but a small revelation has him cutting her a little slack.

Exhaustion had taken more of a toll on the Vault Hunters than they'd realized. It was well past morning when they finally awoke, feeling sore and groggy. Aches and pains were the least of their worries, though, as they got out of their cots in a symphony of groans and popped muscles. It was the best respite they'd had in a long time, made even better by the fact that there was hot running water in this New Haven place. Last night had taken longer than usual for any of them to get ready for bed, each one wanting their turn in the shower in the soothing heat. The hot water would only last about five minutes or so before running cold, which meant that the next would have to wait a while before it got warm again. Either way, they'd all had their turn, filling the small bathroom with contented sighs that would have given anyone else eavesdropping in the wrong idea.

"Anyone got any ideas about breakfast?" Lilith mumbled in the middle of her yawn as she ran a hand through her tousled red tresses. She was without her on-edge look for once, appearing surprisingly soft as she hugged the thin pillow to her chest. She likely would have slept through the rest of the day if Brick hadn't nudged her awake.

"We could ask that Pierce woman," Roland suggested as he smeared the dust off his headgear. His suggestion drew even more groans from the others. None of them wanted to deal with her again, not after yesterday's little errand and the treatment they received from her afterward.

"I ain't goin' out there," Mordecai refuted while pulling on his boots. None of them could be sure whether he'd fallen asleep in that leather skullcap or not, since he'd been awake the longest. No one wanted to ask, either. The hunter's disposition for being standoffish and grumpy was well-known throughout the group.

"How about we draw straws?"

"We've got no straws, Brick. ... Lilith?"

The Siren blinked heavily, her mouth twisted into a light scowl. She didn't want to know what they had in store for her.

"What?"

"You got longer hair than the rest of us put together. Willing t'donate a few?" The hunter's smirk threatened the pillow being chucked at his face.

"I'm not pulling out my hair. And yours is longer than mine!" She gestured to the back of her head where Mordecai's ponytail of dreads resided. Roland was contented to sit this one out, focusing his attention on ridding his gear of grime.

"Rock paper scissors, then. That'll make it fair." Brick smacked a meaty fist into his palm. The interruption was welcomed, given the Siren looked like she was ready to set the hunter on fire. Their hungry bellies weren't making the situation any less tense either.

They took turns in pairs, best of three, until it was down to Roland and Mordecai. The other two sat nearby in gloating triumph that they'd bested their opponents, beaming like a pair of Cheshire cats.

"Ha! Paper beats rock! Looks like it's your go, Mordecai."

"That's so fuckin' stupid! How does paper beat rock?!" He threw his hands up in the air in defeat, wishing that he'd never agreed to these stupid terms in the first place. He should have sat out and watched them play the fools, bickering over who would really have to go.

If they were going to make him do this, he was definitely going to draw this out so that they'd never ask him again, force them to wait while he dragged his heels and returned with soggy cold food. That would teach them to settle this nonsense with childish games. Or better yet, he could not come back at all and give their meals to someone else out of spite.

He mumbled swears under his breath as he stepped outside and was greeted with a blast of warm morning air in the face. It left him a little stunned with the sudden change in temperature, the air of their little "home" still chill from last night. The smells were a welcome change, however; inside smelled like body odour and morning breath, while outside was awash with the smells of living people, going about their daily lives. It was much more preferable than the stink of skags and sweaty bandits that they had gotten used to. There was the lively chatter of the sane variety too, the smell of burned coffee, car grease, and food. It had never been high on his list, but even the scents were enticing enough to make his stomach twitch with anticipation for something hot and fresh instead of the usual stale jerky.

Helena Pierce's office wasn't too far away; Mordecai wasn't sure if that was a blessing or a curse in disguise. Sound probably traveled quite easily to her place and that meant any rowdy nights he and the others decided to have would draw her to their door like a damn chaperone at a sleepover. He already wasn't a fan of her authority and he wasn't interested in becoming one, even if she was a woman.

"'ey, the others 'n I were wonderin' about breakfast," he asked with his head down as he strolled into her office. He gave her door a casual knock in passing but didn't care about waiting for an invitation; it was a power play he was sure would get on her nerves. He and the others had done more than enough for this town and deserved more than just the beds and some hot food. By right, they were damn celebrities. But expecting to be treated as such on a place like Pandora was a fool's hope.

What he found, when he stepped inside, was Pierce sitting at her desk, still going over papers. There were pen scribbles here and there, a few crossed-out words, and mumblings muttered under her breath in concentration. She seemed to be completely oblivious to his presence, apparently.

And that annoyed the piss out of him even more.

"Hey!" He smacked his hands hard against the table, sending several things scattering and falling over the in process. It was foreseeable that his actions would have scared her out of her thoughts and forced her to cater to his presence so that he would get out of her hair sooner. Instead, there was a slow pause in her writing and she raised her head to stare up at the one interrupting her work. Her golden-brown gaze fixed upon his face and although she couldn't see his eyes, the look was challenging. There was no furrowing of her brow, no downturning of her mouth. It was a simple, steel-eyed glare that said volumes of what she thought of him and his interruption. They dressed him up and down as her lips drew out into a thin line.

"That's funny. I don't see you wearing any diapers."

That was all she had to say before going back to work, leaving Mordecai completely flabbergasted.

"Excuse me?!" Who the hell did this woman think she was?

" _Diapers_. Those things babies wear when they can't take care of themselves. You know what babies are, right?" she continued her condescending tone, her pen still working across the papers before her. " _You_ are not wearing any. What does that tell you?"

That pierced Mordecai down to the bone, so much so he was done with giving this woman any leeway in talking to him like this. He'd had enough with "playing nice" like the others wanted him to, had had enough of his trek to find the one haven on this bandit-ridden planet, and no longer had any interest in sticking around so that this woman could continue to kick him around like some kind of lost mutt. He'd done so well on his own with Blood, going from planet to planet, caring about no one else but himself. Helping out these New Haven people was just a checkmark in his book to get to the real treasure. But now that he'd seen that they were somewhat decent people so far, he'd lowered his barriers for them, given the smallest sliver of a damn... and this was how he was paid in return. With insults and jabs and sarcasm from a woman who barely came up to his shoulder.

"Well, first of fuckin' all, we don't know th'layout o'this place. Second, you made us into your fuckin' errand boys, wouldn't be so hard t'ask for a li'l help in return, would it? 'n third, how 'bout you take that stick out 'your ass 'n stop thinkin' every outsider's your fuckin' enemy?" He gripped the edge of the table, tempted to grab the whole thing and flip it over to cast the papers and lamp to the ground out of spite.

"You're Vault Hunters. You found your way on here, on your own, killed plenty of bandits, got the network back up and running, and you're expecting the people of New Haven to drop to one knee and provide you with offerings from our tables for all your good deeds. Out of gratitude." She spoke slowly, purposefully, before casting the pen aside. She stood, unable to match his height at all, with a look in her eye that revealed she wasn't going to back down easily. No matter who was standing in front of her, Vault Hunter or not.

"Well, I have news for you. There are no handouts. You work for it or you can get out of my town. I have enough on my plate as it is, trying to keep everything in check around here and the four of you are already throwing things off-balance. I _should_ be grateful that you're here to assist us. Instead, there were three reports on the radio this morning from the local warlords wanting your heads on pikes. You can see why I would be more worried about my people who didn't ask to be thrown into another bandit war just because a few Vault Hunters turned up to satisfy the state of their bellies."

"I can't fuckin' believe this," he muttered under his breath, his leather-clad arms crossed over his chest. There were always going to be bandits and bandit lords, there was always going to be a threat to this place in the middle of the Rust. Their presence, here or not, wasn't going to change a damn thing.

They silently fumed at each other for several long minutes, unable to say one word in protest of the other's presence. It was the twinge in Mordecai's stomach, however, that convinced him to give up this pointless feud. He gave the table one more jostle before turning to leave and, once outside, swung his boot at the nearby post. The mailbox responded in kind with a groaning complaint.

"And kindly leave my mailbox alone!" she bellowed from inside.

For that, she got a pair of middle fingers before he walked away in a huff, heatedly mumbling Truxican swears under his breath as he made his way down the street. He tried to recall their journey last night in getting lost and remembered the man who'd pointed out directions to him. That guy would likely know where to find food around here.

The problem was finding him again. Everything looked completely different in the daylight.

A few minutes of wandering got him on the right track again and it was easy to retrace his steps back to where they'd found him. Thankfully, it turned out the man not only knew the place well but also ran his own bar. Mordecai wasn't sure how he'd missed that last night. He licked his lips at the sight of the rows of colourful bottles behind the owner. He would definitely have to come back here to refill his flask with something expensive.

"Ya know a good place we can get food around here?" He idly slapped a twenty onto the bartop. Information was never free around here and it was better to get what he wanted quickly than to find some other means to jog the man's memory.

He stared down at the bill in question, shrugged, and slipped into his pocket.

"I got a few choices for breakfast if you're alright with fried stuff," he replied with a drawl. He pulled a folded, stained sheet of paper from under the bar and laid it out before the hunter. Not bad. There were actual meat and some eggs, arranged together in different variations to expand the makeshift menu. Definitely better than stale jerky.

Mordecai placed his order - getting double for Brick alone - and watched as the man went to work getting his order ready. It all smelled better than anything Mordecai had had in a long time. He would have relished in it more if he didn't realize in that moment of the food being bagged up that none of the others had given him any money.

... he could always lie about how much the food cost. That way, he would at least get paid for his efforts.

As the owner slid the bag to him, he also placed a cup on a saucer, filled to the brim with tea.

"I didn't order no tea," the hunter responded more curtly than he intended. He wasn't interested in the hot, likely overly-sweet beverage that would do him no good. He just wanted to get back, sit on his cot, and allow more of the day to waste away without having to go on another errand.

"I know. You guys're staying at Pierce's, right? It's her morning tea. I ain't got time to go over and bring it to her, so..."

... so much for not going on another errand!

"Fine. _Fine_. Fuck!" He snatched at the cup a little too violently, the bag of food tucked under his arm. Some of it spilled onto the counter but he didn't exercise any courtesy in cleaning it up. He curtailed his temper with a heavy exhale; she had as much right to breakfast as anyone else around here, but it didn't make him feel any better about catering to her needs once more. Who the hell just has tea for breakfast anyway? New Haven was supposed to be loaded with supplies, better off than any other settlement around here.

Mordecai stopped just outside her door and shifted his gaze to the small building the others were waiting for him in. He could dash the tea to the ground, say screw it, and go eat with them.

His gaze shifted back.

Or he could give the woman his damn tea, have her be out of his hair for the rest of the day, and chalk it up to her owing him one, even if she'd never fulfill it.

He stared down into the dark puddles of tea in the chipped saucer. If the administrator of New Haven herself hadn't had the time to go out and get her own breakfast, what else hadn't she had the liberty to do around here?

He kicked at the twinge of guilt trying to surface and buried it back beneath a scowl. Back into the lioness' den he went.

"It's not that easy to get lost around here, is it?" she questioned without raising her head. Her scribbling was much more furious this time, eager to get rid of him so that she could get back to the more important things in her day.

"Your _tea_." One would have thought it was a curse of some kind from the way he said it, as he placed it near the lamp at the corner of her desk. She'd already rearranged the things on her desk as if he'd never been by earlier.

There was a pause as she raised her gaze but he wasn't about to have any of it. He didn't want to see the surprised look on her face. He didn't want to see that momentary glimpse of weakness in the person keeping this place together. He swallowed his pride and turned on his heel before then to take care of his own people. Just as she needed to do with hers. He felt the heat of her stare burning the backs of his eyeballs as he exited her little office.

"What the hell took you so long!" Lilith barked from her upside-down position on her cot. Her stomach responded horribly at the smell of hot food as he tossed the bag onto the nearest table. There was already a growing grease stain near the bottom of it.

"Nothin'. And that's what you're gonna get if you don't get your food before Brick eats it all." The sound of ripping paper told him their large companion was already tearing into it, which served as a good distraction from Mordecai having to explain himself. Lilith and Roland dove towards the bag with panicked yells and grabby hands to try and get it away from Brick.

"I'm hungry and this barely enough to keep me full!" He shoved a large burrito-like thing into his mouth, a huge glob of cheese already dripping out the other hand, before relenting his grip and allowing the others to take their meals... save for one.

"Thought you were hungry, Mordy."

"Not for this shit," he replied with a dismissive wave.

"C'mon, you've eaten worse."

"Had better, too." He looked over the... _thing_ wrapped in a sheet of grease paper and tossed it back into the torn bag. "What you guys got looks better. Gonna see if I can switch for somethin' else." The smell of it all and the morning's event had made his stomach turn for the worse. He wasn't in the mood to explain to any of them why eating was such a chore for him either... or why he avoided it at all.

* * *

Having killed her pen with the morning's work, she headed into the back room to get another. Ink itself was pretty scarce around here and she was glad she'd had the foresight to invest in a few dozen boxes of the writing implements. Humming a pleasant tune under her breath as she returned to her desk, she was stunned to find a torn bag wafting with the smells of grease, some kind of meat, and imitation cheese. Not the healthiest way to start the day - or the middle of it - but she couldn't remember the last time she'd sat down to eat something hot and fresh, and not reheated in her filthy microwave. Even if it was going to do horrible things to her hips later.

 


	3. Cynical Pink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mordecai overhears Roland's concerns and brings them up to Pierce. Though why he cares, he doesn't know. Mutual drinking is also involved.

Two weeks had passed in the blink of an eye in the sleepy town of New Haven. So smoothly that the Vault Hunters hadn't noticed their passing. They did what jobs needed to be done to help around as much as they could, mostly without question. The less pertinent missions were more than annoying but if it got more scratch into their pockets, kept the people happy, and got Pierce off their backs most hours of the day, they sucked it up and powered through them. The random attacks from the nearby bandits helped too, keeping them away from harvesting car parts for Scooter or having to gather acid crystals (for some reason or another). Life in New Haven was filled with more perks than nuisances so there was no real need for any complaints.

It was in the middle of their third week when Lilith awoke in the late afternoon to Roland entering their collective home, looking a bit perturbed. That wasn't usual for him, being the stoic one of the group. He only ever complained when things were _really_ bad, so to hear him slam the door behind him and feel the little shack reverberate with his anger told her that something was definitely up.

She dug the heel of her hand against her eye as she sat up in her cot; a day of phasewalking through the badlands wore her out quickly so no one really faulted her for the random naps she took throughout the 72-hour day.

"Someone's a little pissed..." she spoke through a gaping yawn, rubbing at the kink in her neck. The cots weren't the most comfortable but they were better than lying on bare dirt.

"... where're the others?" Roland complained with a huff as he sat on his own bed, already working at the laces on his boots. He didn't need the other two knowing his personal business.

"Outside, I dunno. Do I look like their babysitter?"

Lilith was used to getting lip, but not from Roland. He was the most polite of the four, making requests with the usual please and thank you instead of barking orders. So it felt out of place to talk back to him like this... like he was just a regular.

He didn't seem to appreciate her tone either and chucked his undone boot across the room. It bounced dully off the metal wall and rolled end over end across the dusty ground.

"Good job showing that boot. I'm sure whatever it did to make you so pissed won't happen again." She was half-tempted to roll over and feign sleep, to let him stew in his mood until he was more reasonable to hold a conversation. She got the feeling, however, that this kind of mood wouldn't simmer down quickly.

"What's got you so pissed, soldier boy?"

"... how many times has Pierce asked you to do something for her?" He shed the other boot and tossed it lightly to join the first. A good sign that his temper was no longer flaring.

"What, like in person? It's been about three or four times now. Same for the others, I think."

"You ever notice she's never sent me out on my own?" His belt and hat were the next to be removed, and were dumped at the end of his cot. Lilith didn't understand his line of questioning... or why that would make him so pissed.

"So you're not one of her little errand pets. I'd think having more time to do... whatever it is you find fun, would make you happy."

Roland turned with a scowl. Lilith recoiled as if she'd been struck.

"I'm serious."

"When are you _not_." Lilith rolled her eyes and turned her back to him, her pillow dragged over her head to drown him out. "You could take the fun out of a carnival if you tried hard enough."

"... I think she doesn't trust me." He undid the snap of his pauldron; the heavy chunk of metal fell to the bed and rolled to the ground, landing with a heavy thunk that left behind a deep trench in the metal flooring.

Trust wasn't something that was given freely around Pandora, but the fact that Pierce had provided it so readily to the others and not _him_ rubbed the soldier the wrong way. The guy who barely laughed at anyone's jokes nor complained after hours and hours of walking through sand after their Runners were taken out. The others had wondered if he was even capable of expressing any kind of emotion, or if that part of his brain had been broken by a random piece of shrapnel during his Atlas days.

To think that he would have hurt feelings over something so insignificant made him appear a bit childish to Lilith.

"Why do you give a shit what she thinks anyway? You do good work."

On the other hand, if Roland took notice of Pierce's treatment of him, it wasn't without some basis in the truth. That would make the administrator's lack of faith in him puzzling, given how dutiful he was.

"Wouldn't be the first time I haven't gotten a thank you. I just thought here in New Haven it would be..."

"... different?"

"Maybe. You think it's because of this?" He dragged the beret off the cot and tossed it onto his lap. The Atlas logo stared up at him, almost mocking him. Roland looked and sounded tired, the anger having drained much from him.

"What, you mean Atlas?" The springs of the cot complained as she took a seat next to him, poking at the thread-bare tam. "With them taking settlements all over the place, I can see why she'd be worried. A place like New Haven would make a good supply depot if they really wanted to get to the Vault before us..."

"That's not funny..."

"It wasn't meant to be. I'm trying to think how she thinks."

"Since when've you started developing insight into other people's thoughts?" Roland's tone was a little more playful. Teasing, even. He leaned back against the wall, looking the Siren over. His eyes couldn't help but roam to her far side, where those intricate blue lines danced across her skin.

"I don't know, maybe you're rubbing off on me." Lilith scooped the beret off his lap and tossed it at his face. Roland let out a small gasp of surprise, unable to swat the thing out of the way in time. "Someone's gotta keep those two inline in case Pierce is right about you."

The smile disappeared from Roland's face.

"That's not funny either."

"That's because you don't have a sense of humour."

Then there was silence interspersed with the quiet buzzing of words that were too quiet for Mordecai to hear. Words he wasn't _meant_ to hear from his perch atop the roof. Brick had left minutes ago, already bored with the banter coming from inside. Thankfully too; he wasn't known for having a very good poker face and if the large man discovered what was transpiring inside, there was no way he could have hidden the knowing smile on his face. Mordecai, on the other hand, knew to keep his nose out of other people's personal affairs, especially with something like this. The development was new, surprising even, but he supposed it couldn't be helped. Roland and Lilith both had chips on their shoulders and people who wanted them dead. It was reasonable that they'd be pulled together eventually.

The hunter gave up on eavesdropping on whatever was taking place below him and drew his attention to the office just across the street. Roland's words still lingered in his ears - how much Pierce's lack of faith in him bothered him - and toyed with the idea of questioning her about it.

None of his business, he reminded himself. He was just here for the loot within the Vault and then he was getting the hell off this planet. He'd had enough of its sand in his hair and the bandit banter in his ears to last a lifetime.

Another citizen of New Haven ventured out of Pierce's office door - Shep Sanders, from the looks of it - and disappeared between the buildings. People had been coming and going out of that place all day, yet the woman inside had yet to make an appearance. Did she always work herself this late every single day? It was easy to make out her voice too, that lovely accent of hers barking orders into her ECHO at other men she had out in the wastes. Yet, his own had remained quiet all day. Not a single task that required completing or some concern she wanted them to check out. Perhaps, for once, she was giving them a break.

If only she treated herself just as well.

Mordecai was pretty familiar with her late schedule too, who kept midnight hours of his own. Watching the flicker of lamplight from her office when he was picking particularly stubborn debris out of Bloodwing's feathers or staying up to clean the gun out of his large knife. But he only had himself and his bird to take care of, and the backs of his "friends" on occasion. She had more riding on her shoulders than simply killing bandits: supplies to maintain, concerns to take care of, ensuring the safety of her people, et cetera. Her belligerent comments were likely what got her through each day without losing her mind, which he'd come to appreciate and pay back in kind. It was... refreshing to have someone who he could banter with without shying away or getting offended. She had thick skin and that had transformed his annoyance into an acceptable level of admiration.

Part of him hoped she would never pick up on that.

Unfortunately, endurance had its limits and he was sure she was stretching hers pretty thin. He was just starting to head down the ladder to "annoy" her with the offering of a meal when he saw the office go dark. It had never done that before and stopped him mid-rung. Bloodwing, sensing his light discomfort, let out a quiet screech in his direction and shook her head, ruffling the few feathers that still remained on her neck.

Pierce emerged from the building with her arms stretched over her head and her face twisted in strained relief. Mordecai felt guilty spying on her like this, seeing her in such a vulnerable moment outside of her work. Almost as if no one else was meant to see this.

Then he reminded himself it was a public street, though that did nothing to change the warmth in his cheeks.

"Hey," he barked as he descended the rest of the ladder, waving a hand in her direction. "Want company?"

Pierce paused, dressed him up and down, then gave him a light shrug.

"Do what you want, Vault Hunter. New Haven's a free town, remember?"

That didn't exactly answer his question and he felt put-off for some reason. And the not-knowing why it did annoyed him even more. But he tagged along anyway, putting on the air of wanting to piss her off and ruin the rest of the night she was gifting to herself with a much-needed break.

"You're gonna kill yourself slower than those bandits out there," he said in passing, his hands shoved into his pockets as he kept stride with her. She was so short, however, that it was difficult to keep his steps so small. His joke went by unnoticed and without comment. It didn't even register on her face that she's heard him. But just as he was about to give up on attempting conversation, she threw him a bone.

"Things need to get done around here. Who else am I supposed to trust them with?" Her words rolled together in that lovely lilting accent of hers, and it was easy to see the lines beneath her eyes when she chanced to look up at him. Though she didn't appear to be a woman of sophistication with the dusty and worn clothes she had on, her accent was a refreshing thing to listen to in comparison to the rough drawls of those that lived in the wastelands. As she spoke, gloved fingers ran themselves through her hair, trying to affix that one bright grey streak back in place, only for it to tumble forward again against her cheek. It curled in a way Mordecai had never imagined and he couldn't help but wonder if, let down, the rest of her hair did the same.

"Any of us." He quickly shook himself out of his thoughts before she discovered he was staring. "We ain't leaders like you, but we ain't stupid. 'specially Roland." Why was he bringing that up now, he didn't know. He'd meant to let the business lie, yet his subconscious had dragged it to the forefront. Maybe it was his curiousity that demanded satisfaction, because like _hell_ was he going to consider that he actually cared about the three he traveled with. And if there was any truth behind Roland's assumptions, then that would give them more reasons to leave and get away from this place than choosing to try and make it a second home.

"He's Atlas," she exhaled from behind leather as she tried to tuck the streak back in again. She found no reason to rely on someone who used to be the enemy. She'd already lost too much to this planet.

At least Roland had been right, Mordecai concluded. Despite cutting his ties to Atlas, even killing a few of them just to get here, Roland couldn't make everyone accept him so readily.

"Ex-Atlas," he corrected.

"Whatever. How much does that change, really?" Pierce shot him a look with that golden eye of hers that revealed to Mordecai an inkling of the hardships she'd already been through. She looked beyond exhausted and beyond annoyed. She wasn't about to let some newcomers just strolling in tell her who she could and couldn't trust. She couldn't risk handing over her home to the enemy.

"What do you mean?"

"So he's ex-Atlas. Isn't that all you really know about him? You haven't exactly gone out of your way to get to know the people you've been working with."

"How do you..."

"You're not the only one who watches people around here, you know. It's my business to learn about those I'm allowing to live in New Haven. Including _you_."

The heat rose to Mordecai's face and he picked up the pace somewhat. He hated being watched, spied upon like he was a source of entertainment.

"A recluse with a bird," she called out after him. "Not wanting to give a lot of yourself away because you're afraid you won't get the same in return."

This conversation was starting to feel like a big mistake, especially with how close to the head of the nail she was swinging. Mordecai wished he'd never entertained the idea to begin with. But he was too prideful to retreat now. And he wanted to see how she entertained herself when she wasn't behind a desk.

There was that annoying curious streak again.

"And you're hidin' yourself in that office for some reason, somethin' you don't wanna face when you got time t'think. Don't think I'm th'only one with demons in my closet."

Pierce clammed up; Mordecai counted it as a small victory. The fact that she wasn't chasing him away either meant she wasn't _too_ upset by his observation. They continued the rest of the way in silence until they got to the shindig of a bar tucked away next to Marcus' shop. Pierce raised a single finger, and the bartender brought her a single pint of beer.

"Got bourbon?"

"I wouldn't recommend it," she interrupted before taking a long draw from her drink. "They make that stuff out of skag piss. You'd be better off with the firemelon vodka, if you're wanting something strong."

He shrugged his shoulders at the bartender and acquiesced to her suggestion. She would know what was best around here... unless she was pulling his leg. The bartender poured out a vaguely red liquid into three shot glasses - at least, he guessed it was red - that smelled of cinnamon candy mixed with ash. Mordecai touched one of the glasses to her pint and threw the whole thing back. Instantly, it felt like his teeth had melted and his tongue had been burned up into a lump of charcoal. The burning sensation continued down his esophagus until a dull warmth rose in his belly. He worried if he was going to be pissing fire later.

"Back to where we left off," he wheezed out, "... you're bein' paranoid. Roland ain't no spy. I know what one looks like and Roland... just ain't it. He's awkward as fuck, sure, but he ain't th'kind to stab people in the back."

"He left Atlas, didn't he?" She took another sip, her gaze fixed forward on nothing in particular.

"So he walked out th'front door. Big deal."

"And he's killed a few Atlas soldiers."

"Only cuz they tried t'kill us first. Listen, thinkin' like that's only gonna drive you mad." Mordecai threw back another shot, just when he was starting to get the feeling back in his mouth. He was the kind to let bygones be bygones until someone proved to stab him in the back again. Then he took care of them, quite thoroughly. Being consistently distrustful only led to mistakes.

"So are you saying you're going to vouch for him then?"

Mordecai cringed and shook his head. These shots were good but they were starting to make his hearing go fuzzy.

"What?"

"I'm asking, if I end up being right, are you going to take responsibility?" She placed her glass down with a bit of force, not enough to spill it but enough that the hunter would take notice.

Putting down Roland? That wouldn't be difficult at all. The first time they'd met, Mordecai had already counted eight different ways he could have taken him out without much of a struggle. Five, if the soldier managed to get his turret out in time.

Lilith had a lot more before Mordecai discovered what a Siren like her could do. Those options were now down to two.

Brick... was still a mystery. Any plan he considered would only make the bruiser mad, and that wasn't a fury anyone could keep a straight mind around.

But _could_ he, at this moment in time, pull it off with everything they'd been through? Mordecai wanted to say yes, yet he knew in the pit of his stomach that he was lying to himself.

"The fact that you're taking so long to answer tells me something, Vault Hunter."

"Mordecai. It's Mordecai, alright? I know it's probably easier for you to lump us all together so that you won't have to remember our names but I'm not here to make thing easy for anyone." Mordecai downed his third shot. He was sure his toenails were on fire.

"And yeah, I'll keep an eye on him if it means you stop bein' suspicious of him. I'll be th'first one t'put him down if he ends up fuckin' us over. But I'm tellin' ya, that man's gonna come through for you when you least expect it." He slapped the bar and pointed at the row of empty shot glasses before him. The bartender gave him a look but poured him three more. As long as he got his credits, he didn't care what happened to the hunter after all this.

"Is that so?" she added with a derisive snort. She wasn't about to let him have the last word on the situation. It was comforting to know that would burden himself with such a task if it meant they all got along. But not so comforting that he would turn on his friends in a heartbeat. He was definitely one to keep her eye on.

"Yeah, that's so!" The fourth shot he took his time with, confused as to why he was even sticking up for Roland now and completely oblivious to how drunk he already was. "You want me to go ask him?"

"No, that's quite alright." Pierce chuckled quietly to herself. This man was amusing; it was the first in a long time she'd ever laughed so carefree. It reminded her of what she used to be like before she became administrator. Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea for them to stick around if she was going to have more moments like this.

"You might want to ease up on that vodka, though. If we're going to be working together to keep this place safe, I need you hungover as little as possible." Working together? Why was that suddenly such an attractive idea? Sure, she was in control of this town, keeping everything moving smoothly down to the letter. But it also didn't hurt to have a few more pairs of eyes to look over her shoulders when... _if_ something managed to slip by.

"Heh, joke's on you. I'm pretty much drunk half the day." Mordecai gave her a half-cocked smile as he slid his fifth shot towards her. She looked down at the pale red liquid then back to her pint of beer. Didn't hurt to live a little, right?

"Is that why you wear those frustrating goggles all the time?" she asked with a slightly disapproving look. The firemelon vodka singed her lips as she took a sip. "To hide the bags under your eyes?"

Mordecai waggled a finger at her.

"Nah, ya not gettin' all my secrets like that. You gotta work for 'em." He toasted his sixth against hers and sipped that as well.

"If I cared enough."

"Oh, you do. Ya not that good at hidin' it, trust me."

She chased the fire from her mouth with the rest of her beer, wondering if the hunter was pulling her leg with his guess or had really figured her out. It was interesting, this banter they were playing at. Like two feral cats dancing around each other, waiting for one to reveal a weak spot so that the other could go in for the kill. It put her on edge, sharpened her mind in a different manner, but also served as a good distraction from her usual work.

"Whatever you say, _Vault Hunter_."

" _Administrator_. Now if ya don't mind, this booze's got me all fired up so I'm gonna take off. Best if ya don't wait up for me." He teased her with pursed lips as he slid off his stool, checked his person to make sure he hadn't left anything, and headed towards the Fast Travel station.

"The thought didn't even cross my mind."

Pierce watching him go - not even a stumble in his step - as she slips a handful of cash to the bartender. The hunter was definitely an interesting one, definitely more difficult to figure out than the others. Not counting the Siren, of course. Her very existence was a conundrum.

"Ma'am?"

"Mmm?" She'd almost forgotten where she was.

"Anything else?"

She shook her head and gave the stool up. Perhaps she _had_ given them too much of a hard time, especially the soldier. The last thing she needed was to make enemies of people who were just trying to help. The hunter's assurance definitely helped to put her concerns to bed as well. For all his rough edges and sharp tongue, he was definitely proving to be more accommodating than he gave himself credit for.

 


	4. Blood and Thunder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A funeral is held for T.K. Baha and everyone is expected to attend. What no one expected was there to be so much drama.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay on updating this re-do of an old fic. Thankfully, with more time on my hands again, I can finish up the last 4 chapters and get this bad boy completed. :)

Pierce was starting to believe that with these Vault Hunters on her side, New Haven had a real chance at finding peace. With each new bandit lord thwarted, she could breathe a little easier. The celebrations that ran into the small hours of the morning grew in frequency to the point that she had many different reasons for staying up past her bedtime. It would be easy to yell out her window and get them to be quiet, but her people deserved each night of fun. She wasn't going to be the one who smothered their excitement.

But nothing could prepare them for the death of someone like T.K. Baha. The man was beyond cheerful, always with a smile on his face and a corny joke prepared to make anyone's eyes roll despite everything that had happened to him. He provided what many of them needed the most and it was a shame she wasn't able to convince him to move with her to New Haven. She could have done with his pleasant countenance around here.

He didn't want to leave his wife, he'd told her. Someone had to look out for her while she rested. Then he cracked a smile and wheezed that airy laugh of his before adjusting his goggles. Another blind joke he was making at his own expense. Helena had given his shoulder a playful shove then, feeling those thin bones under that Hawaiian-print shirt. There would be no one else like him ever again, and that was what hurt the most.

Pierce held herself together quite well when she'd heard the news, but the ache in her chest made it difficult to breathe and to take care of her tasks for the day. How could they have lost one of their own so easily? The Vault Hunters should have been there to save him from being strung up like some sort of criminal. But even they couldn't be everywhere at once. They were still (mostly) human beings.

Once she finished her allotted paperwork for the day and downed her cup of tea, she dressed in the best clothing she had, stashed away at the back of her closet. To say she'd been saving them for such an occasion was foreboding, but someone had to mourn those who were lost. It only seemed fitting that it be her.

The trip out there was swift but no less unpleasant. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been through the Fast Travel and the trip reminded her why she hated it every time. She quickly leaned against the nearest structure for support, waiting for her stomach to stop flopping around like a half-dead fish. She was thankful that there was no one else around to spy her in her momentary display of weakness, as she'd ensured that everyone else had left New Haven before her. To write her speech, she'd said, but what she really needed was time for herself to come to terms with everything. Without anyone around to spy her let go of her rigidity, it was easy for the tears to slip as she made the short walk up the hill to Baha's house. Perched on the edge of a cliff, the air was warm here and surprisingly clean. The rocking chair on the front porch rocked with the breeze and she could easily imagine Baha in it, blindly watching over the small plot of land that was his and his alone. She wondered if, in his blindness, could remember the view from his porch, how it overlooked Fyrestone. She wondered what quip he would say to Zed when the doctor made a special trip to check up on him.

She wondered what he might have said to her had she made the trip herself. Maybe one more time would have been enough to convince him.

She didn't dare to look inside the small hut; that was where the Vault Hunters had found him, hanging from his ceiling fan. That wasn't how she wanted to remember him, hanging upside. It was much easier to dwell in the denial of his death and focus on happier memories instead.

Chatter quickly filled the air; the others were here and that meant she was going to have to buckle down and be the backbone her people needed her to be. They were dressed in the best they could find, save for the Vault Hunters. Pierce could forgive them for this slight, seeing as they had no change of clothes. The three carried the simple coffin up the hill, with the rest of New Haven's people following behind.

The sun beat down on everyone as they stood around the gravesite. Such a small hole for such an impactful man. It was almost unfair that they couldn't do more for him, save for the scavenged jars bearing the bladeflowers he loved so much. A gentle breeze caressed their thin, crimson petals and carried their scent through the air.

Once everyone was in place, Roland started speaking.

"He was a man who smiled, who brought colour to our lives, especially with that shirt of his. A widower to the end, T.K. rarely had a bad word to say about anyone, and that's something you won't find a lot of on Pandora. Let's carry the joy he provided to us for the rest of our lives." His voice was low and quiet as he read from the crumpled paper in his hands. He was never good at speeches, he'd admitted but Pierce had demanded that they at least say something about the hermit.

Lilith's and Brick's statements were a little more awkward, and neither was really capable of getting through them without a hitch in their voices. Lilith chose a quote she'd found on the Echonet and built her speech around that, while Brick spoke from the heart while fiddling with that paw resting against his chest.

The hunter, however, was nowhere to be found. This trip had been made mandatory, a show of solidarity that no one would be forgotten. And yet he'd defied her direct orders. She was definitely going to have a talk with him later, out of the earshot of everyone else. There was no reason to ruin today's events with swears and tempers.

There wasn't a dry eye anywhere, save for Pierce. Death was nothing new to her, not for those she'd held close to her heart. Just like Baha, her husband had been the one to keep a smile on her face and her hands steady when things had started to fall apart in their lives. She'd come to rely on him so much that without him as her foundation, she'd become adrift. Adrift but still tethered, floating and still attached to those who needed her to carry them through. That had left her with very little room or time to mourn. There'd been no way she would have let them drown with her.

Hugs and kisses were exchanged throughout the day as some left to head to Fyrestone to prepare for the reception while others remained behind to reminisce. People scrounged together what they could to make a satisfactory affair, just enough to fill a few bellies and add some mirth to the occasion. Zed had even strung up a few lights across his clinic to brighten the place a little bit once the sun was down.

And still, Pierce lingered by the gravesite. The fresh pile of dirt stared back at her, questioning why she hadn't done something more to keep him safe. The guilt, the judging... she knew she wasn't perfect, that she couldn't be everywhere at once, but that didn't stop her from constantly questioning and working herself to the bone to do everything she could.

Still, Baha would have placed his hand on her shoulder, shook his head, and told her he wasn't leaving. That he would defend to with his last breath, no matter which bully came stomping up to his door.

"Thousands of candles can be lit from a single one, and the life of the candle will not be shortened. Happiness never decreases by being shared, and such was true for you, my friend." She knelt by the grave and placed a few stalks of bladeflowers across the mound. The joint of her arm ached in mourning. It had been T.K. who'd helped her piece together her metal prosthetic back when he still had his eyesight. He'd dragged that bag of parts Scooter had helped him gather and worked on it day and night until he managed to put something together that worked. It was a crude mishmash of parts, looking more like a wrecked car bumper shoved onto the end of her arm but he'd stayed to help her fine-tune it, to make the adjustments she'd needed until it was just right. Baha had had the patience and the smile to keep her concerns at bay.

"Things weren't supposed to be this way. We should've taken him with us, Nathan. New Haven could have used him. ... we both could have. That insufferable shirt of his could have brought some colour to our rusty little town." She sighed deeply of everything she'd been holding in all day. It was becoming exhausting.

"Take care of him, would you?" She kissed at the small lapel she kept pinned to the inside of her jacket, a ritual she'd kept with her since his death. The faded yellow chevron was starting to fray with the fretting of her fingers over time. What she would do when it disintegrated into mere threads was a reality she didn't want to face. Save for that ring, it was the only piece of him she had left. She would undoubtedly start to come apart herself, something that her people didn't need to see. To think that such a practical woman would resort to such superstition and impractical methods of comfort would make them question her reliability, she believed. Hence her need to keep such matters private. They didn't need to know of her low days, or how low they could really be.

The walk back to Fyrestone filled her nostrils with the scent of food, and there was a buzzing in the air that spoke of bittersweet merriment. This small celebration was what they needed before they went back to the daily grind of their lives.

Helena made her way to the refreshment table, asking for the strongest drink they had. Hopefully, it's bite would sting her throat back into submission before it gave way to emotions once more.

It was then that she spied the hunter slinking up out of the shadows out of the corner of her eye. He was trying to look like he'd always been there, like he hadn't been hiding away from scrutinizing eyes. Of course, his attempt mostly failed; his friends were giving him rebuking glares for being absent at something so important to all of them,  _to her_. Brick shoved Mordecai by the shoulder, almost sending his thin frame tumbling into the dirt. The hard lines on the bruiser's face deepened even further, made his scars look more sinister. Brick could bloody an entire bandit village and still have the common sense and respect to pay his dues when it was asked of him. It was obvious he wasn't too happy about Mordecai's blatant disregard for her orders.

Lilith scowled and turned away, pretending to be engaged in conversation while she indulged in more cheese cubes from a tray. Roland, not one to resort to any violent means, gave Mordecai a look that stopped the hunter in his tracks. Something silent passed between them at that moment, something that shook the Truxican down to his boots and forced him to submit, giving up on his posturing stance to find something else to do. That seemed to be enough for Roland.

But Helena was different. She wasn't about to let him go that easily. She threw back most of her drink and gave chase, interposing herself into his path towards the table of beverages. Why should he benefit if he didn't participate?

"The food and drink are for those who attended." Her gaze narrowed in judgment.

"I was there. Bein' lookout," he chuffed. He turned to point to the large rocky outcropping that hung over T.K.'s hut. The stain of alcohol already on his breath told her that he'd already been enjoying himself up there. What was more concerning, however, was that he'd heard every word she'd said in her moment of privacy. He'd violated that in his own way, and that pissed her off even more than his lack of participation.

Believing that she was satisfied with his answer, he tried to step around her, only to be met with her presence once more, blocking him from the able. It was obvious that she had no intention of making this easy for him.

"I didn't ask for security. I asked for friends to say something nice for someone who meant a lot to us. I didn't think you had a problem understanding English." Pierce tried to keep her voice low - this wasn't a conversation anyone else needed to hear - but keeping her temper at bay was proving to be difficult, as was proof of the insult. She'd given him one job and he'd blown it.

"Well, if you're gonna be a bitch about it..." Mordecai turned and stormed away, his hands shoved into his pockets. He didn't have to take any flak from her, not when he wasn't required to be at this reception. He'd had enough of the contemptuous treatment from his friends and he didn't need it from her too.

The sound of the wooden table buckling stopped him in his tracks. He glanced over his shoulder to see it bowing in half; Pierce had slapped it so hard in her anger that it splintered in twain, sending most of the cups sliding towards the middle. Helena could take his disrespect within the four walls of her office, but not in public. Not in front of  _her_  people. And not at such an event where it was supposed to be about more than yourself.

Behind her, people were scrambling to save the cups and drinks before they fell to the ground, wasted to the sand.

"Don't do this here, Truxican. We just lost one of our best and I don't need your attitude ruining the atmosphere." There was heat in her voice as she spoke lowly. Despite the table, she wasn't going to let this get any more out of hand, not on her part.

"Or else what? I'll wake the dead? In case you ain't noticed, he ain't gonna hear you. He hasn't heard  _any_  of your bullshit!" Mordecai threw his hands up in the air and turned to direct his attention to the crowd. His words quieted their festivities into hushed tones and whispers. Past his arm, Helena saw Roland and Lilith's eyes open in stunned surprise; Brick seethed before turning away. She saw his neck muscles straining as the bruiser tried to keep himself from doing the unimaginable. The hunter wasn't making a good case for his behaviour and even his friends were starting to lose respect for him.

Pierce didn't know what came over her at that moment, but the next thing she knew she felt a sting across her knuckles and witnessed the sudden jerking of his head to one side. She heard the pained grunt that followed and the shocked collective gasps of those around her. A few in the crowd even grinned at the fortunate opportunity to witness a fight breaking out, with Helena Pierce of all people. The Vault Hunter against the iron woman.

Mordecai hadn't been expecting the swing either, or else his years of experience might have saved him from such an assault. The alcohol was already impairing his judgment too, but he still never expected she would lash out that way. He was used to her verbal strikes, her forceful, demanding tone that left no room for a conversation or even negotiation. It was her way or you could get out of her town.

A storm brewed behind those goggles, though his expression remained mostly neutral in those long seconds they continued to stare at each other. Pierce shook the pain out of her gloved hand, her stare daring him to lay a single finger on her. She knew he wouldn't, but the adrenaline in her veins demanded something more to see just how far he would go. Someone would like to intercede on her behalf anyway, mostly because of their height difference.

Some greater force managed to stay Mordecai's hand. A verbal argument was one thing but a physical confrontation, in front of everyone, was overstepping the line.

"I don't need this shit," he mumbled before acquiescing to her reign. She turned and stormed back towards the gravesite, his hand pressed to his swollen cheek. A distant screech overhead and the faint leathery silhouette spoke of Bloodwing's continued presence, even unseen.

Bated breath waned in a collective exhale from the crowd. A choice few still glared in disapproval at the hunter's retreating form.

"Someone should go after him," Lilith suggested as she popped another cube of cheese into her mouth. No one seemed eager to take up the task, however, preferring to let him stew in his temper and alcohol. Helena agreed on some part, deciding that she would check on him later once things died down until she saw the lean silhouette lurching behind the corrugated metal wall by the entrance of Fyrestone.

Pierce wanted to celebrate, to leave the bastard to vomit out his guts as a form of karma. Then her own words filled her head, the same words she'd given the Vault Hunters when they'd first walked into town.

'-... except we take care of our own. Being vindictive isn't the way to be.'

She hated when her guilt forced her to take on unsavoury tasks, especially if she felt some asshole deserved what came to them. The Vault Hunters had done a lot for New Haven's people. Even if their attitudes had needed some adjusting to be more helpful, Helena still owed them a lot for the work they did  _and_  for the things they  _hadn't_  been asked to do.

As she gave in to her guilt and neared, she could hear the familiar sounds of gag reflexes and splashing on the dusty ground.

 _Great_.

"Are you alright?" she called out before she got too near. Vomiting, no matter its cause, always seemed to be the most private of acts that no one wanted to get caught in. Embarrassment was always sure to follow, and with the tension of the air between them, Helena had a feeling her presence would only make things worse.

There was a cough and the scuffing of boots in the dirt. He was likely trying to hide the evidence.

"Fuck off."

"I will, once I know that you're not going to pass out in your own regurgitation. It would be a messy affair to drag your unconscious body back to New Haven. On the other hand, we do have all the equipment to make a nice comfy bed in the dirt for you."

" _Now_  you find th'time t'be funny?"

"I've always been. You just don't know how to tell the difference." The smell of something sour and metallic filled the air, which made her gravely concerned. In the dim light of the moon, she could see fluids seeping underneath the wall, tinged with streaks of red. Blood. That definitely wasn't normal.

Instead of showing her concern with more questions, she unsnapped the flask from her hip and tossed it ahead of her into the shadows, beyond the boundary of the fence. The round metal object collided with the back of his feet and soon disappeared with his retreating hand. What followed was a swishing sound of water and a spit, then the glugging sound of the canteen being drained dry as the hunter sought to rid his mouth of the taste of acidic bile. The shadows spat out the empty container and it landed at her feet with a silent thank you.

"You should probably get that looked at," she whispered as she collected her canteen from the dirt.

"I'm fine."

"I know Zed isn't exactly a trained-"

"I said I'm fuckin' fine! Goddamit, why can't you mind your own damn business!"

"Because you've  _made_  yourselves my business!" she barked back. As much as she'd tried to distance herself from them, seeing the Vault Hunters as only tools to meet her ends, their prolonged stay in New Haven had wormed them under her skin, making her give something of a damn for their well-being.

"I jus' wanna get this fuckin' Vault and get outta here, alright? I didn't ask for your fuckin' charity or rules or makin' us do whatever th'hell it is you need done on any given fuckin' day. I didn't wanna be no babysitter for some assholes livin' in th'dirt. You're jus' a means to a fuckin' end."

She  _knew_  that, and yet, that didn't make the words hurt any less. Everyone was a means to an end when it came to Pandora, and she should have expected no differently from those seeking glory and fame from the contents of a mysterious treasure trove. But he'd plunged a knife right into her assumptions and twisted it until the mangled pieces purveyed her mind and left her thinking of nothing else.

Still, Mordecai continued.

"You act all high and mighty, pretendin' ya don't hurt when everyone can see how you treat yaself like shit. And anyone tries t'offer you even th'smallest amount o'help, you shove it back in their faces like ya don't need it. So don't come out here and be a fuckin' hypocrite with me, awright? I  _said_  I'm fine, so leave it."

He hocked and spat on the ground again before his boots ground at the dirt. He turned to retreat into the night and Helena found herself frozen by his words. They'd stolen her determination to follow, the ounce of affection she'd held for him smothered into nothingness. She'd already taken the risk to see if he was okay; pushing the matter further wouldn't smooth things over between them.

"You stubborn asshole," she blurted out as she listened to his footsteps grow more distant. It was never in her nature to let him have the last word, especially when he was making  _too much sense_.

"Look who's talkin'..."

**Author's Note:**

> This is a rewrite of a fic I uploaded about three years ago and only recently found time to work on it again. I'm still very proud of this work and I'm glad I managed to do Pierce justice (with the help of skagpearlring on Tumblr)  
> If the title names seem familiar, that's because they're based on track titles from the Trigun OST, which also has a very Borderlands-y feel.


End file.
